


Play Me Something...

by Caledonia



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Pianist, Concert Pianist, Did I mention there's a piano, Fluff, M/M, Mostly Fluff, Piano, Piano Sex, did I mention he's a pianist, merlin plays piano
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-19
Updated: 2018-09-19
Packaged: 2019-07-14 12:03:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16040105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caledonia/pseuds/Caledonia
Summary: Merlin is a classical pianist who habitually gets notes of complaint from his neighbours, and habitually gets evicted by landlords unwilling to keep the peace. Until one note turns out quite differently than the others.





	Play Me Something...

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to the incomparable [GuessI'mAClotpole](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Guessimaclotpole/pseuds/Guessimaclotpole) who beta'd. They're five chapters into a long fic that's proving to be glorious and perfect - [It's A Safeguarding Issue](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15907086/chapters/37077474) \- Which you should actually read *instead* of my work because it's that amazing. Go read that first and come back. Seriously. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own these characters and am not making any monetary gains from this work.

Merlin had only been in his new flat for two months when the complaints started rolling in. He didn’t think it was very fair - he’d gone round to each and every tennant in the building before signing the lease to make sure that everyone,  _everyone_ , knew he was a pianist. “I play the piano,” he’d said, “I hope that won’t be a problem.” And they’d all been welcoming, interested and friendly. He'd even had two comments on how he had the perfect hands for a pianist - slender with long, dexterous fingers. One a seemingly professional assessment from a grandmotherly woman in 2B, and the other, rather more suggestive comment from a middle-aged lady in 9C.

He'd taken the time to talk to everyone, (everyone except 7A, that is - they hadn’t been home), and no one had expressed any negative emotions.

So Merlin had signed the lease. He’d paid the glaziers to remove and reinstall the window. He’d hired a crane and they’d eased the grand piano into the living room. After the tuners had left Merlin had sat down on his bench and he’d played. And he’d played. And he’d played. Bach, Grieg, Chopin, Rachmaninoff, Debussy, Sibelius, Beethoven. He'd let his emotions bleed into the music and, as always he’d left a little bit of himself escape into every note.

But nine weeks later Merlin started to get notes though his letterbox and post-its stuck to his door. They were kindly requesting he play more quietly, or not during _this_ particular time or _that_ afternoon. He could tell they were embarrassed to be going back on their promises that they didn’t mind having a pianist in the building, or they would have made their complaints loudly, mid-performance.

Merlin had thus far found it easy to comply with the varied demands. He ceased his playing during the requested hours, and he tried to keep the volume down when he did play, but after a few more weeks it began to get slightly ridiculous. If you added up all the hours his neighbours requested he _not_ play, he’d have roughly fifteen minutes every third Tuesday afternoon to play anything at all.

Twelve weeks after moving in, Merlin began to ignore the neighbours. The notes piled up, but Merlin continued to play. He’d done his best to accommodate and his attempts had been ignored, so there was nothing left to do but play when he wanted until the inevitable eviction request came from the landlord. He’d been politely asked to vacate four other flats before this one, so he was expecting it, eventually.

One night in late August, with the windows open to coax in the last of the late summer breeze, Merlin sat at his inherited Steinway and began to play. He eased his way through a few peppy show tunes, fully intending to stumble loudly through a new piece, until he heard his letterbox clatter.

Merlin vaulted across the room, hoping to wrench the door open on the letter writer, but when he got to the door there was only the receding echo of feet on stairs. Merlin bent and retrieved the letter, feeling his blood pressure rise steadily, to find that it wasn't a cease and desist letter after all.

It was a request.

Scrawled hastily in slanting, neat script were the words - _play me something sad_.

Merlin blinked at the note for a few long minutes before walking the length of the flat and settling himself onto his bench.

_Play me something sad._

Merlin rolled his shoulders and sighed, gently intertwining his fingers together and raising them above his head in a lithe stretch.

Something sad...

Closing his eyes, Merlin put his fingers to the keys, caressing a few with long strokes, then he started to play. He began with a slowed version of Chopin’s Mazurka in F Major, Opus 68, Number 3, letting the music flow from him into the piano and out the open window. He barely paused before continuing with a Nocturne and cascading into Clair de La Lune and tapering off into the most melancholic version of Moonlight Sonata he could manage.

When he finished Merlin resisted the urge to bow, and in the silence of the dark night, drifting through his open window Merlin heard clapping coming from a few floors above. Rising from his bench and stretching his arms and hands, Merlin smiled. Apparently they'd been happy with his choices.

The following Friday afternoon Merlin returned home from practice to a note requesting a half an hour of upbeat music beginning at eight. It was in the same neat, slanting script as before. Merlin showered, changed into more comfortable clothes, grabbed an apple from the countertop, opened his windows and balcony door while eating his apple, then sat at his piano. It was only ten minutes to eight, but he didn't want to disappoint.

Merlin played his way easily through some jazz and some ragtime before finishing his set with something the unknown party might recognize, The Maple Leaf Rag. When he was finished he could hear laughter and merriment drifting down to him, but looking up from his balcony he couldn't see anything at all.

The following week he was working on his own Beatles medley (people in bars tip you more if you play songs they can hum along with), when his letterbox clattered again. Using that as an excuse for a break Merlin slowly sipped his water as he sauntered to his door.

 _If you've abandoned the classics at least play something more difficult than that_.

Merlin laughed out loud and settled himself back on his seat. Without even thinking about it he began to play [The Snoopy Song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=16xNlqtZg08). Even as the last note was fading into the evening air Merlin could hear laughter from above.

It went on like this until late October when it was far too cold outside for Merlin to leave the windows and doors open when he played. He'd tried it once but his fingers had grown painfully cold and he'd started missing notes.

At the beginning of November a note appeared saying - _it's far too quiet without you_.

That night Merlin snuck upstairs to apartment 7A and very quietly slid a flyer through the letterbox. It was an advertisement for a show he was playing at a local cocktail bar. He was completely guessing that 7A was the author of the requests, but if they called him on it he could just say he'd given a flyer to everyone in the building.

Then Merlin went back to his piano and practiced.

The night of the show Merlin was unaccountably nervous. He knew these songs cold, but with the possibility of 7A being there it felt like a bigger show than it really was.

The bar was busy, some people stayed for his whole set and others wandered out after one or two drinks. Merlin played his program and smiled, chatted with some regular customers, flirted with some others, and waited for 7A to reveal himself.

With only a half hour left Merlin opened up to requests. The first two were easy and short, then, from somewhere in the shadows, a deep voice said, “Play me something sad.”

Merlin smiled the best he could, swallowing back sudden nerves, and started to play The Snoopy Song again. Laughter swept over the crowd and Merlin kept playing, morphing the song into another Nocturne with which he closed his set.

When he was done he rose from the piano, stretched his hands and arms, and blew onto his fingers to warm them. A few people from the audience came to talk to him but he knew, by instinct, that none of them were the man from 7A. He collected his tips and headed to the bar where there was a martini already waiting for him, made by the bartender exactly how he liked them. Merlin thanked the bartender and leaned his elbows on the bar, relaxing into his drink and scanning the room.

He had it figured out in moments, who 7A was. The aggressively attractive blond standing with the waif-like woman in a shocking green dress. He was pretending not to be interested in Merlin, but his eyes kept sliding Merlin's way almost against his will. Merlin smiled to himself and finished his drink. On the  way out of the bar he bumped intentionally into the blond man causing him to nearly spill his drink. In the chaos that followed he leaned close, ran his index finger down the back of the man's arm and whispered, “You know where to find me.”

When the letterbox clicked, Merlin was playing gently through some Mozart. He rose, sipped his water, and let the blond man from 7A into his flat. The man had broad shoulders and a narrow waist, a strong jaw, straight nose and a smile that made Merlin's toes curl. He was attractive in a way that made Merlin feel brave, and he was looking at Merlin in a way that made him feel powerful.

“How did you know who I was?” the man asked in his deep voice. They were stepping around each other, almost circling like boxers, sizing each other up.

“I still don't.” Merlin admitted, half smiling, “not really. All I know is you couldn't keep your eyes off me.”

The man laughed a rich, genuine laugh, his head tilting back. Merlin watched the stretch of muscles in his neck. “I'm Arthur Pendragon. 7A.” Arthur reached out and they shook hands, then Arthur began to examine Merlin's hand and fingers closely, as though checking for breaks. “Your hands are incredible.” Arthur said, sounding almost awed.

Merlin clumsily untied his bow tie left handed and unbuttoned the first few buttons of his shirt. “I want to tell you now,” he said, laughing low in his throat, “if you had any fantasies of us having sex on my piano it's simply not going to happen. It's worth more than you.”

“I doubt it.” Arthur said as he brought Merlin's hand to his mouth and took the pad of a finger gently between his teeth. Merlin sucked his breath in between his teeth and pulled his hand away, reaching around the back of Arthur’s head and grasping his neck firmly. Their lips met in a kiss and Arthur moaned, low and long, a resonant sound of deep desire that matched Merlin’s own in tonality and depth.

That night they didn’t make it to the living room, let alone the piano. And what started as a one night stand quickly escalated into a first date with zero awkwardness, then more dates followed. Then Arthur came to see the orchestra perform, and afterwards Merlin introduced Arthur as his boyfriend.

As the weather began to warm again Merlin returned to playing his piano with the windows and balcony door open. As Arthur owned the entire building (turns out he was worth _slightly_ more than Merlin's ageing Steinway), and the entire building knew they were shagging one another, the complaint notes came very rarely. So when the letterbox clattered in the middle of Tchaikovsky, Merlin wondered what it could be.

The note was small and carefully written in slanted handwriting Merlin recognised very well. Play me a song for falling in love.

Merlin took a few deep breaths before he opened his door. Arthur stood with an incongruous bouquet of flowers and a sheepish, frightened look on his face.

“I love you, too, you know.” Merlin said, bringing Arthur into his flat with a kiss. They made love, and in the morning Merlin sat at the piano, Arthur on the bench beside him, both of them in a heady state of undress, and he played a few songs about falling in love.

Merlin played a tune Arthur recognised but couldn’t place, the notes enveloping them both in memories and in love. Merlin brought out the handwritten score which was titled “ _Play Me A Song For a Lifetime Together_ ”, and Arthur knew what that meant and accepted. He climbed easily onto Merlin’s lap, disrupting his measured progress through the notes of their time together, and Merlin stood, lifting Arthur onto the keys and they celebrated their engagement on the piano that Merlin had once believed more valuable than Arthur, though even then he knew how very wrong he was.

They hired someone else to play piano at their wedding and as they took to the floor for their first dance, another song of Merlin’s composition, they both dissolved into helpless laughter when the pianist instead began to play The Snoopy Song.

**Fin** **.**

**Author's Note:**

> I know it's technically called "Linus & Lucy", but I simplified in case others didn't know. [Linus & Lucy by Vince Guaraldi](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=16xNlqtZg08)


End file.
